


Tall Tales

by tardisrosehp



Series: Supernatural [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Eventual Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 18:16:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3498089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardisrosehp/pseuds/tardisrosehp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two girls from our universe are flung into the world of Sam and Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Let me know what you think of my AU Supernatural. I'm open to suggestions. I've been writing AU for years now and I'm deciding to publish one here. I am doing through the series, so this won't be the last one. Please let me know what you think :)

           I awoke with a start, feeling around me for any and all tangible objects in the vicinity. When my mind had settled on the conclusion I was awake and breathing, I slumped my way out of bed, and into the kitchen. I was greeted by my best friend, Chelsea. Chelsea has been one of my best friends since I was 13, making it seven years of friendship. She's 27, and I'm 21. Even though there is an age gap of five, sometimes six years, we have still managed to form an inseparable bond. She's 5'5, beautiful, her hair split two-thirds with blood red, the other third pitch black, with gorgeous green eyes. Her bottom lip is pierced, along with her nose. Most everyone says we look like sisters, though I am 5'10, with wavy ginger hair, and deep hazel eyes, we still managed to get confused as sisters from time to time.

          "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," came her chipper voice merely seconds after I entered the kitchen. I glanced over to her, raising an eyebrow as I shuffled to counter for some coffee.

          "Morning," I grumbled.

          "Sleep well?"

          "No," I told her rather bluntly. She looked taken aback, so I then began to explain. "It's not that my sleep was horrible, it was the fact that I woke up with such a start from such a strange dream."

          "How was the dream strange?" she asked next.

          "I don't even remember," I lied, remembering perfectly how it went: I had awoken in the dream in the passenger seat of a 1967 Chevrolet Impala, and when I looked over to the driver, it was Gabriel, the Archangel, the Trickster, from the television show _Supernatural_. The next thing that would happen is when it would start to feel creepy. Gabriel would turn to me as well, looking rather desperate before telling me, "they're coming!" and then causing the car to wreck, which, without fail for the past two weeks, would be the point where I would wake up.

          "Sure," she said, sounding completely unconvinced. "You remember everything."

          "Actually, it's not uncommon for people to forget their dreams, especially within the first few minutes of waking up," I replied, rather defensively. Now she raised an eyebrow and sighed.

          "Right, well, I've got to run," she told me, picking up her books from the kitchen island. "I've got Professor Cox today," she mumbled, making last minute conversation, as she began to walk for the door.

          "Oh, what a joy," I shouted after her.

          "Don't have too much fun without me!" she yelled in return with a tone that led me to believe she was smirking. I sighed but smiled softly as she closed the door. Today, I had a day off, and I was going to take advantage of it. When days like these presented themselves, I would clean the apartment. It became a habit after having nothing to do for seven hours a day while Chelsea was in class.

          I never figured out what Chelsea would do when the situation was flipped.

          It was only nine that morning, and I knew around ten Chelsea would be home for an hour and a half. So I decided the best thing to do would to start with the living room. After a good 45 minutes of cleaning, I went back into the kitchen to get some water. However, something odd was waiting for me.

          Three sweets wrappers were laying on the counter. I stared curiously at the wrappers. Logical explanations began to kick in and I became somewhat nervous. Was someone in the house? Considering Chelsea and I were both studying a branch of forensic science, the guy had picked a rather foolish place to break in to.

          But then, why would he eat sweets and plant evidence?

          I decided another perfectly logical explanation could be that Chelsea left them there and I just hadn't noticed due to tiredness.

          I pushed the three wrappers into the trash, got my water, and went back to the living room. Instead of three wrappers, there was now a plate with crumbs and frosting on it waiting for me in there.

          My cup of water hit the floor as I instinctively became defensive, crouching slightly and putting my fists up. I backed into the kitchen, looking around for any other sign of a person. I quickly reached to the top of the fridge and grabbed a knife, standing back up fully. I approached the living room once again, even more nervous now.

          "Hey sweet thing," came an impossibly familiar voice. I shrieked and nearly dropped my only weapon, cutting my hand off the blade. Gabriel, the trickster, the archangel, was sitting on my sofa, a candy bar in his hands. Or, at least, it _looked_ like Gabriel.

          "Who are you?" I demanded, surprised by the boldness in my voice. I had noticed the water from my spilt drink was gone.

          "You know who I am," he simply replied. I swallowed hard. "Now why did you go and hurt yourself?" he questioned softly, setting the candy down on the table and standing up. I immediately stepped back, noticing my hand was dripping blood.

          "So if I use this blood to draw an angel banishing sigil and then use the sigil--"

          "I disappear," he said, walking towards me. "But you don't want that," he calmly stated, reaching forward and taking the knife from my hand. He tossed it behind him, and it stuck in the wooden claw on the sofa's armrest. He then took my hand in his own and I watched in awe as my hand was healed of it's previous cut. "Believe it now?" he asked gently, gazing into my eyes. It was rather amusing, I was nearly two inches taller than an archangel. Though his honey golden eyes still found my hazel ones.

          "No."

          "Oh come on, Sarah," he pleaded, sounding disbelieving of my claim. "I know you know its me. You are too smart to not understand that." He sighed and kept my hand in his, walking back to the sofa, and sitting both of us down. He turned to look at me again. "Now, why am I here?" I shrugged, unable to speak. "You do know. I've been controlling your dreams for like, say, two weeks now." As he finished his statement, he looked deep into my eyes again, and I gazed back. I heard the snap of his fingers and the next moment I was being offered red wine. I took the glass and stared at the sanguine liquid.

          "How are you real?" I looked back up to him. Now he shrugged.

          "I just am." He took a sip of his wine.

          "Why do you look like that?"

          "Like this? Familiar form."

          "Familiar form for who? Me?" He nodded.

          "And Chelsea."

          "Have you been controlling her dreams?" He shook his head.

          "Just yours." I was confused, and I'm assuming it showed in my features considering Gabriel chuckled.

          "Why are you here in the first place?"

          "You two are special." Now I was extremely confused.

          "What? To who?"

          "Them."

          "Them..." I paused. "As in the angels?"

          "Not quite." I sighed, setting down my wine and raising an eyebrow, somewhat annoyed.

          "You are being incredibly vague." He smiled.

          "They're coming," he told me with a smirk.

          "They WHO?" I nearly shouted at him, setting my wine down. As soon as my voice cut off, I heard the sound of the front door opening. Gabriel and I whipped our heads around at the sound, and when I turned back to him, eyes wide, he was gone.

          "Luci, I'm home!" Chelsea nearly sung out. I stood up and had noticed that the wine was gone as well. It was like he was never there.

          "Oh, Jesus," I murmured as she entered the living room and dropped her new books onto the sofa.

          "Looks good," she complimented, looking around the living room. I simply nodded my head, looking about the room myself, seeing if there were any remnants of Gabriel. "What are you doing?" she asked.

          "Nothing," I mumbled and glanced down at her, before looking over her head.

          "Right..." she said with a roll of her eyes. I scoffed as she walked past me and into the kitchen. I let out a sigh of relief as I surveyed the room another time. "Sarah," came Chelsea's voice in a shout from the kitchen. I turned to face her voice. "Having a bit of a sweet tooth today?" My heart jumped up into my throat. I turned back around and saw Gabriel sitting on the sofa, a smug look dancing across his features.

          "Er-- yeah!" I shouted back, grimacing at the Archangel. I continued to stare into his honey eyes until I heard Chelsea's footstep's approaching. My eyes widened again and I rushed out of the living room, catching Chelsea in the hallway. She raised an eyebrow.

          "Hi," she began, confused.

          "Heya!" She folded her arms in response. "What?"

          "Why are you being so weird?"

          "I'm not being weird," I retorted, trying my best to sound offended.

          "Sarah, I've known you for nearly eight years now."

          "Yes," I responded. She sighed and rolled her eyes before pushing around me and walking into the living room. I stood still, waiting for a response of any kind, be it good or bad. But nothing came. I eventually decided that all was clear, and I made my way into the living room. Chelsea was sitting on the sofa, her books now in front of her, and her laptop turned on. I sighed a breath of relief, sitting down beside her. She looked over to me, her eyebrow already raised.

          "You look like you've seen a ghost," she stated. I chuckled, a quite unconvincing one in my opinion, but it seemed to pass as far as she was concerned. She sighed and went back to doing her coursework.

          The rest of the day went as it should have; Chelsea went back to school for another couple of hours and I went back to cleaning the apartment, with no more signs of Gabriel. I decided that while Chelsea was at school, and I had finished cleaning, to watch the Supernatural episode Tall Tales, because that particular episode introduced Gabriel. At around five that evening, I had began to wonder if I hadn't really seen Gabriel, if I had imagined it. But that didn't explain all the wrappers in the kitchen when Chelsea got home. I had become increasingly confused on the whole ordeal.

          Chelsea had skipped off to her room at around 11 o'clock that night. At around midnight, I had finally slugged my way into my bedroom, turned out the lights, and crawled into bed. Only to have Chelsea knocking on my door minutes later. I crawled out of the warmth of the bed and slumped to my door, opening it up to see a distraught Chelsea standing there.

          "What's wrong?" I asked immediately, worry now covering my once tired voice.

          "Professor Cox--- he, he," She stammered, looking up into my eyes. "He killed himself," she finished, rather calmly bemused. My eyes went out of focus for a brief second.

          " _What?_ "

          "Yeah," she confirmed, nodding her head. "About thirty minutes ago."

          "Who found him?"

          "Apparently some janitor." Now, all thoughts of sleep were completely gone. Arthur Cox was the name of the professor in an important episode of Supernatural.. That episode, was the first episode we ever see Gabriel. I felt my stomach drop; _our_ professor was Arthur Cox. I had always thought having a professor with the same name as the one in that episode was rather amusing. I shifted to look directly at Chelsea, who apparently took my actions as mournful ones. I was sure I'd feel bad about it the next day, but for the time being, I didn't really feel anything besides worry. Perhaps I hadn't hallucinated Gabriel.

          Chelsea continued on about how she had just saw him earlier that day, and how he seemed perfectly fine, and how there was nothing out of the ordinary. I attempted to contort my features into those of empathy, but all I felt was apathy towards his death. If I was honest with myself, I would realise that Professor Cox, while being a good teacher, enjoyed to hit on his students, and stare down females' shirts when he deemed them not looking. And, if he did die as he did in Supernatural, then he deserved what he got. At least in my opinion.

          After about twenty minutes of listening to Chelsea talk about him, she finally told me she was getting tired and sauntered off into her room.

          "Hello sweetie," came the familiar voice again after Chelsea closed my door. I jumped, and turned towards the noise, to obviously see Gabriel standing there, in janitor attire, sucking on a lollipop.

          "What are you doing here?" I asked, immediately getting to the point. He looked back to me, mock offence on his face.

          "What? Aren't you happy to see me?" When I remained silent, he began to speak again.

          "Look, sweet cheeks, I'll explain this all in due time. But for now, just enjoy the beauty of not knowing."

          "You'll have to understand that neither Chelsea or I enjoy blissful ignorance," I uttered through gritted teeth. Gabriel shrugged.

          "Well honey bun, get used to it." And with that, he disappeared once more. I flung myself down on the bed, in annoyance and frustration, and finally managed to drift off into a restless sleep.


	2. Hello Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel returns a week later.

          A week passed with no more dreams from Gabriel. After Professor Cox's death was ruled a suicide, university classes resumed. I began to get ready for classes that morning. After putting on a pair of jeans and washed-out Iron Maiden shirt, I walked into kitchen, only to find Chelsea, still in her pajamas, and sitting on the counter eating a piece of toast. She chuckled as she saw me.

  
         "Dude, you've got no classes today. It's Professor Cox's funeral today." She jumped off the counter and took her final bite of toast. "Give me a little bit to get ready and we'll head down to the bar. I've got work today," she said, puckering her lips slightly and standing on the tips of her toes to ruffle my hair. I grimaced slightly, which caused her to smile even more. She began to walk off towards her room. Though, when she was gone, I smiled.

  
         "Good to see you in a good mood. You've got such a sweet smile." I looked up to find none other than Gabriel once again.

  
         "Why do you keep coming here?" I merely asked, having no reaction whatsoever to his sudden appearance.

  
         "I've already told you: you two are very important." I sighed and unfolded my arms, moving towards the archangel.

  
         "Would you like to explain what that means?" He looked to me, and then looked up in mock-thought.

  
         "Hmm.. No." And just as instantly as he had appeared, he disappeared once more with a gust of air. Just as it stopped blowing, Chelsea came back into the kitchen. I turned to look at her. She looked back and smiled, tilting her head slightly to the side.

  
         "Your hair looks pretty. Almost wind-swept." I chuckled slightly and folded my arms once again. She was dressed up in a shiny, nearly sleeveless shirt, tight, dark blue jeans, with deep red lipstick, and smoky black eye-shadow, finished with jet black eyeliner. Her hair was down and feathered out. I flicked an eyebrow up and then looked at my band shirt and jeans.

  
        "Well," I began, unfolding my arms and awkwardly flattening my shirt down. "I'm under-dressed." She smiled and shrugged.

  
        "Nah, you're fine," she told me, walking over to me and swinging her arm over my shoulder. "I was thinking we could eat at the bar when I get my break. I only work a couple hours today." I looked over to her and she looked back to me. I nodded my head with a half smile.

  
        "That's fine. Let me just grab my books," and with that, I briskly walked towards my room to gather the books I studied, full of the paranormal. I opened my door to find none other than Gabriel, for the thousandth time, standing there with my bag in his hand. I scowled as I snatched it out of his hand, and slammed the door behind me, hearing the archangel chuckle on my way out.     

  
        "Everything alright?" Chelsea shouted from the kitchen. Instead of answering, I walked past her with a grunt, and she sighed, grabbing the keys to the apartment and following me out the door.  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The girls meet familiar faces.

          We got down to the bar she was working at, and I sat myself down at a booth in the farthest corner of the bar, dimly lit and smelling strongly of greasy food and alcohol. I slung my bag off my shoulder and slammed it next to me as I slid in to sit. Chelsea came over to me and smiled softly.

  
          "I'll be back on my break in about an hour, okay?"

  
          "Okay," I responded, opening my bag and taking out the stack of books.

  
          "Behave," she told me with a smirk. I looked up to her and pursed my lips, raising an eyebrow. "Don't give me that look."

  
          "Get to work," I told her, smiling fondly. She punched my arm softly and sauntered away. I opened up a book entitled "Ghosts of Pennsylvania" and began to read, getting lost in the story.  
          About 30 minutes later, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Though it was a bit early for her break, I still expected Chelsea, and only moved to put my hand out behind me, expecting her to put my favourite beer in my hand. Instead, there was a chuckle. A male chuckle... A familiar male chuckle. I quickly lowered my hand and whipped my head around, trying to keep my jaw from hitting the floor.

  
          It wasn't Gabriel this time.

  
          It was Sam. Sam Winchester was standing behind me, a slight smile on his face.

  
          " _What?_ " I asked, with a stunned softness, and more to myself than to Sam. Sam continued to have a half smile dance across his lips.

  
          "I'm Sam; sorry, that wasn't really a proper way to greet someone," he commented, extending his hand and gazing down to me.

  
          "I'm- I'm Sarah," I stuttered, coughing after not getting my sentence out the first time.

  
          "Nice to meet you," he said, flashing a smile again. "Mind if I?" he questioned, nodding his head towards the seat in front of me.

  
          "Not at all," I answered rather quickly. He let go of my hand as I moved books around to make room for him. I began to wonder what he was doing here. Fictional characters don't just randomly come to life. I looked up towards him.

  
          Why had fate put him at this university? Was Dean here? Was I dreaming? These two days had messed with my head more than anything before. I was more prepared to accept the existance of a fictional portrayal of a debately real angel, than to accept the existence of _Sam Friggin' Winchester_. And how could I have known? This was completely out of the blue... I watched as he scanned over the stack of paranormal books I had in my possession.

  
           _Oh_.

  
           Well, that's one reason why he's here right now. He noticed the books. He and Dean MUST be on a case!

  
          "So you have an interest in ghosts?" He casually asked, grabbing a few books.

  
          "You seem more enthusiastic about them than I do." He looked over to me with a half smile and raised eyebrows, before going back to reading a book about local legends.

  
          "I suppose you could say that," he responded with a chuckle. "So," he began, looking back towards me. "Know anything about Professor Cox?"

  
          _Sam Winchester is interviewing me_.

  
          "He was my teacher." He nodded his head, and put a tape recorder on the table. I looked towards him and raised an eyebrow, taking the recorder and turning it off again. He smirked with a sigh.

  
          "I just got done talking to them," he told me, nodding over to a table with two students, Jen and Curtis. "They told me about this legend, well, the girl did anyway, this urban legend. They started bickering and then I noticed your stack of books and came over here." I smirked to myself.

  
          "The 'room six-six-nine' legend?" Sam began to look eager.

  
          "Yes, that one exactly," he replied, his voice becoming slightly more excited. I had to bite back a giggle. "Know anything about it?" He pressed further.

  
          "Not much, just the general idea, which is probably what you heard." Sam raised his eyebrow. "But many colleges and universities have their share of ghost stories. Many colleges and universities have their share of people dying from the ghosts said stories are about."

  
          "Do you not believe in any of this supernatural stuff then?" I shrugged, not wanting to seem too into it, because they might mark me down as someone to keep an eye on, but not wanting to appear as though I didn't find the supernatural fascinating.

  
          "I do," I admitted in a whisper after a few silent seconds. "And I'm not ruling this whole 'room six-six-nine' legend as part of Professor Cox's death to be completely false. But--"

  
          "Sarah, Sarah!" I could see Chelsea's bright cherry hair bouncing towards me. "Guess who--" she began, but she quickly stopped dead in the middle of her sentence. Sam was staring up at her, amused confusion painted on his face.

  
          "Chelsea, this is Sam." I gestured towards him, motioning as though he was a prize at the end of a game show. Chelsea's eyes widened even more.

  
          "Nice to meet you, Sam," she said, her voice higher pitched and her teeth almost clamped. Sam's amused confusion turned to pure bemusement.

          "Nice to meet you, too." Chelsea coughed and straightened her clothes. I looked to her, flicking my eyebrow up. The air became awkwardly quiet.

  
          "Know anything about Professor Cox's death? Perhaps anything paranormal related?"

  
          "Sarah knows a lot about ghosts," Chelsea commented, perking up.

  
          _God dammit_.

  
          "Really?" Sam questioned, the amusement returning to his voice and expression. He raised an eyebrow and turned back to me. I glared at Chelsea.

  
          "Well, I've got work to do," Chelsea mumbled, avoiding eye contact with me.

  
          "I didn't know my brother's name was 'Work'," Sam snickered, nodding his head behind Chelsea. Chelsea turned around and noticed a smirking Dean Winchester, devilishly eyeing her up and down. I began snickering, and I tried not to gawk, as I watched Chelsea and her beet-red face whip back around. She didn't look at neither Sam or me.

  
          "Get to work," I told her, my eyebrow raised with amusement. She shot a dirty look towards me, though obviously torn between annoyance and complete excitement.

  
          She turned on her toes and pranced off, her hair flowing behind her. Sam chuckled and looked down towards the book before sighing and looking towards me.

  
          "You didn't seem too interested in ghosts," he commented with a chuckle. I smiled.

  
          "You certainly seem interested though." He smiled and quickly looked me up and down, his brother's devilish grin appearing on his features.

  
          "Oh, I am." He leaned towards me.

  
          _Whoa_.

  
          _Whoa_.

  
          ** _Whoa_**.

  
          **_WHOA_**.

  
          Sam reached across me to get another book from the pile, smirking at me as he did so.

  
       _What a tease_.

  
          After about 20 of the air filled with only the sounds of distant conversations, pages flipping and books being grabbed, there was the slamming of glass on the table, and I saw a shot glass of purple liquid sat down in front of me. I curiously looked up, only to see Sam's older brother, Dean, with a cocky smirk on his face.

  
          "Got shots for you and the lady," Dean confidently said. He was clearly intoxicated. I glanced up to see Sam, who appeared embarrassed and annoyed by his older sibling.

  
          "Dean, what are these?" Dean burped barely a second after Sam asked his question.

  
          "I don't know, man, I think they're called purple nurples," he told Sam with a confused tone. "Who's your friend?"

  
          "Her name is Sarah," Sam told him softly. Dean looked amused and mildly shocked.

  
          "What have you got, a Sarah fetish?" When Sam didn't answer, but continued to look annoyed towards his brother, Dean cleared his throat. "So I was just talking to this waitress, name's Chelsea, and we were talking about anthropology and folklore." I looked up to the bar to see if Chelsea was standing there, but, she was nowhere to be seen. I wondered where she had gotten off to.

  
          "And?" Sam questioned.

  
          "And--" Dean caught himself, looking towards me. "I'll come back in a few minutes." Dean looked down towards me. "Bathroom," he said with a slight smile. I nodded and pretended to look away, but I could catch Dean mouthing, get rid of her.

          I turned back to face Sam when Dean's footsteps had retreated.

  
          "You don't have to get rid of me," I said bluntly. Sam looked as though he was trying to hide a mild shock. Perhaps he was impressed I noticed what Dean had mouthed to him. Hey-- I go to school with a bunch of people training in law enforcement.

  
          "What do you m--"

  
          "I just want to know what a couple of hunters are doing here."

  
          Well.

  
          That wasn't smooth.

  
          Sam now looked completely shocked, and he wasn't trying to hide it. A moment later, his face contorted to anger, and he now glared into my eyes. I gulped, and rather loudly.

  
          "How do you know?" He hissed. It was rather terrifying.

  
          "Your demeanour, the way you ask questions. I mean, what two men go into a bar, seek out women and proceedingly ask about the supernatural? And don't pretend with the FBI crap either, I know it isn't real. FBI don't ask about paranormal possibilities." Sam opened his mouth a few times, the anger slowly fading in and out of his features.

  
          "So... You know a hunter?"

  
          "Yep," I quickly replied. Sam began to look skeptical.

  
          "What's their name? Maybe I ran into them a time or two." _Fuck_.

  
 _Quick; names_!

  
     _Paige, Alyssa, Mary, Rylee, Martha_ \--

  
          _Martha_.

  
          _I don't know a Martha_.

  
          "Her name was Martha. Martha Tyler." _Way to combine names from Doctor Who, Sarah_.

  
          "Was?" he questioned.

  
          "She passed away about year ago." _Ah, I just keep spinning a web of lies_.

  
          _Great first impression_.

  
          "I'm sorry to hear about that," Sam whispered. His voice was sincere, and the anger had completely disappaited.

  
          "It's quite fine," I began, putting on my best theatrical performance to date. "I've had time to adjust." Sam nodded with his sympathetic puppy eyes, seeming to believe every word. Just then, Dean came back to the table, his eyebrows raised.

  
          "It's alright, Dean," Sam told him. "She knows what we are." Dean now became angry, looking dubiously at his brother, demanding an explination just from the look in his eyes. "She had a friend that used to be a hunter." When Sam said this, Dean's anger faded, but he was as skeptical as his brother was just a few moments ago.

  
         "Right, well, I think it might be a haunting," Dean commented as he sat down next to me, facing his brother.

  
         "I mean, if you want to check it out. I'm not too sure yet. Hell, I don't even know how we would get into the college. FBI don't stick around for too long."

  
         "Chelsea and I could help," I interjected. Dean looked towards me. I could tell by his expression, he didn't really want to be discussing this in front of me, but he also looked mildly curious.

  
         "Chelsea? The waitress with the red hair?"

  
         "That's the one." Dean looked back to his brother.

  
         "We sure know how to pick 'em, don't we, Sammy?" Dean asked with slight amusement to his tone. Sam's nostrils flared slightly as his mouth formed a straight line. It was rather entertaining to see Dean embarass Sam as much as he did.

  
         "How can you help, Sarah?" Sam questioned, ignoring his brother all together now.

  
         "Well, I can see about getting some sort of uniform for you two."

  
         "She even thinks like a hunter," Dean commented.

  
         "Why thank you." _I am so full of shit_. Sam looked impressed, and nodded his head, smiling towards me. _Oh god, I hate myself_.

  
         "We do need to get going though," Dean said, trying to draw attention back to him. "We've still got to find a place to stay--"

  
         "You're welcome to stay at my apartment." Sam and Dean both turned to look at me.

  
         "Really?" Dean asked, rather surprised at the offer.

  
         "Yeah, it's not a problem. Got a car?"

  
         "Of course, a sexy one at that." I raised an eyebrow at his words. "It's the 1967 Chevorlet Impala out front," he concluded, standing up. "And that works perfectly, because if we have any questions, we can just go right to you, instead of trying to find you or your friend." I nodded my head in agreement.

  
        "Sam," I began, turning towards him. "Can you please help me take these books to your brother's car?" With a smile, Sam scooped up a small pile of supernatural books. Dean already left for outside.

  
        "What time does Chelsea get off work?" Sam asked as we began to walk towards the exit of the bar.

  
        "In a couple hours. She'll usually message me a little before her shift ends."

  
        When we got outside, we were greeted, and oddly enough, by Chelsea and Dean. However, they didn't notice us. Why? Their lips were too busy being locked to notice anything, even if the world was ending around them. I glanced up to Sam who had this expression of awkwardness, though I could tell by his features this had happened loads of times. I cleared my throat. The pair of them immediately broke apart, and with a smirk and raised eyebrows, I looked to Chelsea, who had never been happier in her life.

  
        "I'll text you when I get off work," Chelsea said, her voice slightly higher once more. As she walked past me, I heard her mumble " _Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god_..." until she was back inside the bar and out of my earshot. I rolled my eyes and smiled, opening up the backdoor seat behind Dean and sliding my books in back. I stepped back a little and let Sam put my books in. I had managed to catch a quick peak at Dean. He looked _different_. He looked like a kid in class when something finally clicked. He looked like he had found an answer to a question he had desire to have an answer to for so long. I wanted to say "whimsical" , but Dean Winchester isn't _whimsical_.

  
        I slid into the car behind Sam; I stared at the Impala. The dashboard, the seats, the interior, and I stared at the back of Sam and Deans' heads.

  
        _This is so weird_.

  
        "Where to, little lady?"

  
        "I'm not little," I mumbled indignently. And it's true, I wasn't. I'm rarely shorter than people I stand next to. It's possible, and does happen, but I appreciated my height, and didn't want to be reminded how I was hobbit compared to these two. When I glanced up to see Dean's glaring eyes in the rearview mirror, I cleared my throat and told him the way to my apartment.


	4. Chapter 4

          When we got to my apartment, I told them to wait outside, and for good reason too. Even with the appearance of Gabriel, none of my Supernatural merchandise had disappeared. I decided now was the time to at least hide it. I made a quick sweep of the living room and gathered all the season DVDs. I went into my room and had to tear down drawings and posters, hide shirts and buttons, and then repeat the same in Chelsea's room. When I went to delete my Netflix history, I notcied something strange; Supernatural wasn't on the watch history. And in fact, it wasn't on Netflix anymore at all.

  
           "Well that's... Odd," I said to myself. Why would the show still exist everywhere else but on Netflix? I decided to quickly open my laptop and go on Tumblr...

           Nothing.

  
           Maybe if I check YouTube...

  
           Nothing.

  
          There was a loud banging coming from the door. Somehow, I had forgot Sam and Dean Winchester were currently waiting outside my door, duffel bags full of personal items, clothes, and weaponry. I shut my laptop and ran to the door, opening it up to them.

  
          _The Winchesters are in my house_.

  
          "Here, I'll take your things," I offered, holding out my hands. They handed me their bags, and when I turned to walk away, I noticed Dean pulling out an EMF detector. I walked between my room and Chelsea's a few times, trying to decided where to stuff their belongings. I settled on my room, and just put them to the side of the door. And who else would be standing there but--

          "Gabriel," I whispered. A smile on his face grew.

          " _Them_." Them? Oh!

  
          "The 'them' you were talking about is Sam and Dean?" Gabriel smiled even larger and nodded once, and without another word, disappeared with a gust of wind. He was standing in front of my bed, and when he vanished, I noticed two electrician uniforms neatly laid out. With a fond smile, I walked over them, picked them up, and meandered back out to the boys.

  
          "Hey, do you mind if I put some food in the fridge?" Dean questioned when I had found my way to the kitchen. I shrugged, but then Sam looked over at Dean, an extreme bitchface on his features.  
"Dude, that thing's been out in your car for like two days. I don't even remember where we ate and you got that from." When Dean opened his mouth to speak, I began to talk.

  
          "So I've got two electrician uniforms," I told them, and rather loudly, as to distract them from beginning to bicker.

  
         "Where'd you get these from?" Dean asked, looking skeptical, and catching the uniform I tossed to him after I got done sizing them up.

  
         "Just had them laying around," I lied, tossing the other uniform to Sam. Dean seemed to buy it, however, and drapped the uniform on his arm.

  
          "We'll investigate  tomorrow," he told Sam, who was now folding the uniform I gave him. "I want to, uh, relax for a little bit."

  
          "You want to make sure the house is up to your par," I told him, folding my arms and raising an eyebrow, though I had a small smile on my lips. Dean sighed and folded his arms too, though there was no smile.

          "I saw your EMF detector when I was headed to my room." He unfolded his arms and glanced to his brother, who did have a smile on his lips.  



	5. Chapter 5

          Once Dean had decided my house was up to his standards, he had nested himself in the living room, with a bag of chips from the kitchen, and a beer. Sam was sitting on a chair in the corner of the living room, with his laptop resting on his knees. He had a beer open, though only a few sips were gone from the bottle.

  
          I had decided the best place to sit was most likely in the seat adjacent to Sam. I'd occasionally glance towards him, and only to see him very focused in his research.

  
          "I'm home!" Chelsea glided into the living room, setting down her things. Dean immediately perked up, and began to practically slap himself in an attempt to get crumbs off his shirt. I smirked.

  
          "How-how was the rest of your day?" he asked her. She looked a bit confused, and I really didn't blame her. I didn't expect Dean to ask that much of a domestic question either. Sam shut his laptop and looked curiously at us all.

  
          "It was fine," she responded awkwardly, but with a smile. She walked to the kitchen, and like a lost puppy, I followed in suit.

  
          "So," I began when we were out of earshot. "Too eager to text me when you got off work?"

  
          "I assumed you would be too occupied with Sam." I felt my cheeks grow red. I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn't find words. Instead, I slowly turned on my heels and walked back into the living room.

  
          "Well, I'm heading off to bed," Dean yawned when I entered the room. He turned to face me. "Where are me and my brother sleeping?"

  
          "Chelsea's room," I told him without second thought. Though Chelsea loved _Supernatural_ as much as I did, she wasn't big into buying merchandise. I figured what I got out of her room earlier would be all the merchandise she had, whilst in my room, things long since forgotten were likely to crop up. "Just let her get pajamas before you head in there."

  
          I quickly peaked my head back into the kitchen to tell Chelsea, who had loudly informed me she heard the conversation, and was getting the things she needed out of her room.

  
          I ducked into the laundry room and pulled out two comforters we never used anymore, along with a pillow, and went back to Chelsea's room. From outside the door, I could hear cluttering. I slowly opened up her bedroom door, only to see her sitting there on the floor, her arm in a duffel bag.

  
          "Dude!"

  
          "What?" she innocently asked, standing up.

  
          "I didn't even put those in here!"

  
          "Well, yes. I figured that if they weren't in my room, they were in yours." I raised an eyebrow at her. "And I also figured they should have their stuff in the room they are staying in."  My foot began to tap, and her lips pursed. "I wanted to root through Dean's shit, okay?" I sighed and laid out the blankets on the floor, turning them into a make-shift bed.

  
          "If Dean finds out you were arm-deep in his belongings, he might kill you," I chuckled, without turning to face her. I heard her feet softly scuttle and then the sound of a zipper.  I waited in there with her as she got changed into sleepwear, and without another word, she ducked out of her room and into mine, closing the door softly behind her. Bewildered, I walked out of her room and into a mountain.

  
          "Hi, Sarah."

  
          "Hi, Dean," I responded, looking up at him.

  
          "Goodnight, Sarah."

  
          "Goodnight, Dean." My tone was more questioning as he slid past me and into Chelsea's room. I blinked a few times and shook my head, slipping into my room and getting changed myself. Chelsea was already curled up on the edge of my bed. Once changed, I went back into the living room, only to find Sam still sitting up on his laptop. I suddenly became aware of how short my shorts were, and how unflattering my tank top was. I folded my arms under my chest. I continued to stand awkwardly in my own house. Sam looked up at me, and smiled.

  
          "Thanks for, well, letting me and Dean stay here."

  
          "Oh, not a problem." I began to rock back and forth on my feet.

  
          "You don't have to feel uncomfortable," he said with a smirk. "This is your house and I did live with my girlfriend for a while, and she had her friends in and out of the house all the time at night." I slowly moved towards Sam and I sat in the same seat I was sitting in earlier. "On that note, is it alright if I sleep on the couch tonight?" I bit my lip and looked towards him, nodding.

  
          _I'm so smooth_.

  
          "Thanks." The smile was still present on his lips. Weirdly enough, it made me smile. Wow, that cute smile of his is now _real_. And its now directed towards _me_. Sam Winchester is smiling at _me_.

  
          Sam had long since stopped smiling at me, though I hadn't stopped smiling at him. I cleared my throat and stood back up.

  
          "I'm heading off to bed." Why am I saying this outloud? That's not something that really needs to be announced, Sarah.

  
          "Goodnight, Sarah," he told me softly.

  
          Hearing that really shouldn't have made me blush.

  
          "Goodnight, Sam." And with that, I meandered off to my room, unbelieving of the day that had just unfolded in front of me.  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter is longer than the other ones thus far. Let me know what you think! I'm curious about how this chapter flows.

           The next morning came quite peacefully, with no strange dreams or sudden appearances from Archangels. I had managed to stay in one position all night, which was curled up vertically, and without touching Chelsea, who was beginning to wake up herself.

  
           "What time is it?" she groaned. I looked over at my alarm clock.

  
           "7:53."

  
          "God," she grumbled, smushing her face deeper into her pillow. "The Winchesters are rubbing off on us already."  She slid off of the foot of my bed and onto her knees, before standing up and straightening out her pajamas, a blue top with blue and yellow plaid bottoms. I stretched out my legs and looked up at her just in time to see her begin to walk away and out the door.

  
           I rubbed my eyes and yawned softly, rolling over onto my back and staring  at my ceiling. I wondered if I went out of my room what I would be greeted with.

  
           Would Sam and Dean still be around? Would they still be asleep? In all likelihood, they were awake.

  
           I quietly stood up and crept out my room and cracked the door to Chelsea's room.

  
         Dean was, surprisingly, still sleeping. I quickly shut the door and backed up into the kitchen, trying to be as quiet as a mouse. Chelsea was in the kitchen, coffee pot already hot and on, making a fresh pot of coffee. I slipped into the living room, and saw Sam still sleeping too, a sheet losely drapped over him, while his arm hung off the edge of the sofa. His legs were too long for our sofa, so he was slightly curled up. I smiled fondly to myself, and after a few seconds of standing there, I began to feel creepy so I shook my head and sat down in one of the arm chairs and turned on the television.

  
           "Morning," came a sleepy voice. I turned slightly and saw Sam awake, with a kind smile on his face.

   
           "I didn't wake you, did I?"

  
           "Not really," he yawned, sitting up and cracking his back. I came over and sat next to him. He curiously looked over at me; I smiled up towards him, which made him smile again.

  
           "How did you sleep?"

  
           "Fine, though, your sofa is small."

  
           "Your body is tall." He snorted.

  
           "I suppose you're right." He stretched his arms as he finished his sentence. Not once, in all his movement, did the sheet fall from around him. I folded my legs up on the sofa, and leaned to rest my head on the arm, trying to sink back into an episode of Dexter.

  
           I might as well have been trying to balance on a ball while hula hooping and juggling.

  
           In other words, it was impossible.

  
           I was sitting, no, _laying_ next to Sam Winchester, watching television at 8 o'clock in the morning. I found myself staring at him again, and decided to sit back up, to make my inevitable gazing less noticable.

  
           His clothing was folded up on the corner of the coffee table, which made me wonder what he had on now. I tried hard to stop thinking about it, but I really couldn't. And thinking about it, just made me stare at him more.

  
           Frustrated, I stood up and left the living room, going into the kitchen.

  
           _Maybe this is why boys think girls are so moody_ , I thought. _They don't see how frustrating and changable a female's' mind really is_.

  
           "Welcome back," Chelsea mused, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in her hands. I sat down across from her, putting my head in my hands. "Awe, cheer up," she nearly sung. 

     
           "What's got you so chipper?"

  
           "I remembered I kissed Dean Winchester." I sighed, and she continued. "Kissing your favourite fictional-now-real-man is very theraputic. I highly recommend it."

  
           "Of course, why didn't I think of that? Thank you for your input, Dr. Cochran," I responded sarcastically.

  
           "All I'm saying is, make a move with him."

  
           "We've barely spoken a hundred words to each other."

  
           "I don't even think Dean and I have spoken much either."

  
           "Yeah, you two let your bodies do all the talking." I smirked as her lips formed a line. At that moment, Dean walked into the kitchen, a muscle shirt on with incredibly short boxers. Everything was nearly skin tight, and complimented Dean's body nicely. Apparently, Chelsea had agreed with my observation, because her jaw was now unhinged from her mouth.

  
           Without a word, Dean grabbed a cup of coffee and shuffled into the living room.

  
           "I could get used to this," she informed me, her lips pursed and her eyebrows rose as she took a sip of coffee. I groaned and put my head on the table. Chelsea snickered and got up from the table, strutting into the living room to join the boys. I stood up too, grabbing two cups of coffee, one for me and Sam, and slugged into the same room.

  
           Dean and Chelsea were both sitting on the love seat, talking with each other.

  
          _Why was it so easy for her? It's not fair_.

  
           I sat down next to Sam, who was watching, and appearing to enjoy the episode of Dexter I turned on.

  
           "I brought you a cup of coffee," I told him, handing it over. He turned to me, again with a smile, and took the cup, downing about half of the mug's contents.

  
           "Thank you." I nodded my response and looked towards the TV. Out the corner of my eye, I could see that Sam hadn't looked away from me yet. Blushing, I turned back towards him. He took a small sip of coffee and flushed slightly. He opened his mouth to speak, but I heard Dean instead.

  
           "Well, I think Sam and I should go interview this janitor guy who saw the professor after he jumped."

  
           _Really Dean? NOW is the best time?_

  
           "Sure," Sam agreed, though his expression was one of annoyance. He sat down his cup of coffee and stood up, leaving the room. My question was finally answered: he was wearing a pair of boxer-pants and no shirt.

  
           _No shirt_.

  
           I choked on the coffee I just took a sip of and recieved a smirk from Dean as he left the room.

  
           "Christ," I coughed out, looking over to Chelsea, who was obviously trying her hardest not to laugh at me.

  
           "Well, that's a 109 words now," she chuckled.

  
           "Shut the hell up."

  
           Around ten minutes later, Sam and Dean came out, dressed in the electrician uniforms I gave them. They left, Dean giving Chelsea a kiss on the cheek, and promising they would be back soon. Once I heard the sound of the Impala leaving, I meandered into Chelsea's room, where Sam and Dean's stuff continued to lay. I stared down at Sam's bag, curiosity overwhelming me. I quickly shut the door and sat down on the floor, slowly opening up the bag. I pulled out deodorant containers for Old Spice, a purple toothbrush, a few plaid shirts...

  
          _Oh my god, I'm arm deep in Sam WInchester's clothes_.

  
          Suddenly, light filled the dim room. Chelsea was standing there, looking down at me with a smirk.

  
          "Couldn't resist, could you?"

  
          "Nope," I responded simply, continuing to calmly put things back, as though this wasn't out of the ordinary at all. I stood back up and dusted myself off, sauntering back to the living room. Chelsea followed, snickering as she went.

  
          I sat down on the sofa and continued to search for a show to watch on Netflix.

  
          "You know what's weird?" I started. Chelsea made a "hmm?" noise of acknowledgement. "The fact that _Supernatural_ has disappeared from Netflix, and Tumblr and YouTube. It's like, just this apartment was thrown into their universe, nothing else." Chelsea stared at the television with wonder as she sat down next to me.

  
          "I wonder why," she commented, folding a leg underneath the other. She began to search for Supernatural on the internet. And she couldn't find nothing, anything, even acknowledging it existed. I took her laptop from her and typed in "Jared Padalecki".

  
          _Nothing_.

  
          "Dude, nothing shows up if you type 'Jared Padalecki' in either." Her eyes widened slightly.

  
          "So, what? Anything even related to Supernaural doesn't exist anymore?"

  
          "I guess so." I closed out of the browser and opened up Chelsea's photos. Pictures of Sam and Dean were still there. "Anything _Supernatural_ related still exists if we already have it, like, pictures--" I turned the computer for her to see: It was a shirtless picture of Dean, from season three, which hadn't even happened yet for Sam and Dean. "--so don't let them on your laptop. I'm sure fanfiction is still around on there too." Her eyes widened even more as she slammed her laptop shut.

  
          "They can't find any of this." She shook her head vigoriously as she spoke. " _Ever_ ," she concluded, getting up and putting her laptop away in my room. After finding another show to watch on Netflix, and only getting to watch the first fifteen minutes, the door opened, and in walked Sam and Dean. Dean walked straight past me and into the kitchen. I glanced back at Sam who was walking towards me. I stood up and he smiled as he grabbed his laptop from the coffee table. I followed him into the other room where his brother was. It took a moment to notice, but they were both back in regular clothing.

  
          "What did you two do, change in the car?" I questioned as Sam sat down at the table. I sat down next to Sam and noticed Dean heading towards the fridge.

  
          "We did," Sam told me.

  
          "Why?"

  
          "Because it raises less suspicion," Dean answered, his head buried in the fridge.

  
          "But you two left this morning in the uniforms."

  
          "Right, but that was because it was still fairly early. What college kid is up at this time on a weekend?" Sam concluded with a smile. Dean had finally finished his search through my fridge and pulled at three beers; one for me, one for Sam and one for him.

  
          "What do you think?" Dean asked his brother.

  
          "Well, no traces of EMF, that's for sure," Sam responded.

  
          "And the room six-six-nine's a load of crap."

  
          "So what do you think? The professor's just a jumper? A legend's just a legend?"

  
          "I don't know. I mean, the uh, girl the janitor described... That's pretty weird."

  
          "Yeah," Sam agreed.

  
          "We oughta check out the history of the building." Dean took a sip of his beer. "See if any co-ed ganked herself there," he concluded, ducking into the other room.  

   
          "Yeah, you're right," Sam agreed once more, opening up his laptop. I glanced at the screen and snorted, almost dropping my bottle of beer. Sam continued to stare at the screen, confused. "Dude, were you on my computer?" Dean poked his head back into the room, pretending to be confused.

  
          "No."

  
          "Oh really? 'Cause it's frozen now." Sam's tone became angrier as he spoke. "On uh, _bustyasianbeauties.com_." I looked up to Dean, who had paused in thought for a moment, before frowning and wincing, and then retreating back into the living room. Chelsea walked into the kitchen, her eyebrows raised and a smile trying to hide on her lips. "Dean!" Sam shouted. "Would you- just- don't touch my stuff anymore, okay?!"

  
          "Why don't you control your O.C.D.?!" Dean yelled back. I mimicked Chelsea's facial expression as I looked towards her. Sam slammed his laptop shut and turned to me.

  
          "Would it be alright if I used your laptop?"

  
_Whoa._

  
_WHOA._

  
_RED FLAG, RED FLAG._

  
_ABORT, ABORT, ABORT._

  
          He could tell I was making up something to tell him, because I knew my mouth was slightly open and my eyes were wide, trying to quickly think of a buyable fib.

  
          "It's updating and cleaning out files."

  
         _Smooth move, Ex-Lax_.

  
          "But when it is done, I'll let you use it," I told him. His smile returned to his face. I glanced up and saw Chelsea's eyes wide and her hands frantically waving. The amount of fanfiction and pictures Chelsea had on her computer were nothing compared to the amount on mine. Chelsea quickly slipped out of the room before Sam could ask if he could use her laptop in the mean-time. Sam did turn around to face her, but she had gotten away in the nick of time. He turned back around to face me.

  
          "I like you, Sarah."

  
          _What the hell did he just say to me?_

  
          I heard him chuckle, and I assumed my face had accurately portrayed what I just thought.

  
          "What do you mean?"

  
          "I mean, you're nice and generous, and you're incredibly smart," he concluded, taking a sip of beer. "You'd be a good friend to have around."

  
          _Friend._

  
_Damn._

  
          "I _would_ be a good friend to have around?" I questioned instead.

  
          "Well, you know hunters, I assume. We are in and out a lot. Gone nearly constantly and our lives are so unpredictable..." his voice faded. I put my hand on top of his, which was sitting on the table.

  
          "I can still be your friend," I said, trying to sound as comforting as possible. "Things get better for most hunters."

  
          "Let's hope they do for me and my brother," he commented.

  
          "Yeah, let's hope," I weakly responded. Dean came back into the kitchen, and grabbed another beer, without looking at Sam.

  
          "Dean, I don't know if you are aware, but you can't watch porn with a bottle of beer," Sam sarcastically told him, looking straight ahead. I looked back and Dean who rolled his eyes and stomped out of the room, and into Chelsea's, slamming her bedroom door. After a few moments of silence, I remembered something and began to laugh. "What?" Sam asked.

  
          "Chelsea went to her bedroom," I told him. "She probably didn't randomly expect Dean to barge in." Sam began to laugh too, and we sat there and laughed long since laughing should have ceased. I had forgotten my hand was still on Sam's, and only remembered when I felt his hand on mine. I looked over to him, and he was already looking at me, a soft expression on his face. I felt his thumb begin to stroke my hand. I turned my body slightly to face his, and he did the same. He leaned closer to me, and I leaned closer to him.

  
         _Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god..._

  
          "Sam, I need you to go to the school's library and get a few records on the school, see if a girl actually did kill herself." Not only was Dean silent as he walked, he was also great at ruining the few short moments I had with Sam. I glared at Dean, who appeared to be satisfied as he left the room again. Sam sighed and let go of my hand.

  
          _No, dammit_.

  
          He stood up and made to leave, before turning back.

  
          "You're welcome to come with me, if you like. I don't know my way around the campus anyway." A smirk began to form on his lips, as though this was incredibly clever ruse he devised to get me to go with him. I decided to play along.

  
          "Yeah, no problem," I told him, bouncing up and approaching him. "Right this way," I said with a smile, and we both meandered gleefully out of the apartment.   


	7. Chapter 7

    Sam and I spent a good couple hours researching suicides on campus. Well, Sam spent a few couple hours researching. I sat next to him pretending to research, because I already knew the history was clean. It was almost 9:45 in the morning by the time we got there, and it was nearly noon by the time we left.

  
    Sam was very focused and quiet during the whole thing, though he would occasionally look over and smile, or even poke me. There were simple things he would do to entertain himself, and me as well, during the hours of research.

  
    "You put up with that pretty well," he complimented me as we went out to lunch.  The place we went to was styled like a 50's diner, and was a little off campus.

  
    "I was entertained," I told him with a smile. The waitress came over on rollerblades and her blonde pigtails swung as she came to a stop.

  
    "What can I get for the happy couple today?" she asked with a large smile. My eyes grew twice in size as I looked over at Sam,  who had calmly told the waitress he wanted a mug of rootbeer and a cobb salad. She took his menu and looked over to me, and I attempted to contort my expression to one of normalicy.

  
    "I'll, er, I'll take the same," I told her. "But with a glass of water on the side." And, taking my menu, she skated off and into the kitchen. My focus turned to Sam as I raised an eyebrow. He raised his eyebrows and, though his lips had formed a straight line, I could see a slight smile on them.  

  
    Lunch went well, and honestly too fast, and we were back out and heading to my apartment before I knew it.  It was nice to see Sam in such a good mood, and I didn't really remember him being this happy. In fact, his mood slowly got more somber and angry since the beginning of season two. But here he was, smiling and laughing.

  
    It was two in the afternoon before we finally got home again.  We walked in the door to the apartment to find Chelsea sitting on the love seat by herself, her eyes glued to her laptop screen. She quickly slammed it shut when she looked up and noticed Sam and I were standing there.

  
    "Well, I've got some, um, napping to catch up on." And with that, she quickly darted out of the room.

  
    "That was... Odd," Sam commented, sitting down on the love seat and leaning down. I sat down next to him and nodded. "Thanks for going out with me. It was nice." I felt the colour rise to my cheeks. He coughed and repositioned himself slightly. "I mean, it didn't really feel like I was doing research. Honestly, it felt more like a college weekend," he chuckled. 

   
    "I'm glad you had a nice time too," I told him softly, smiling slightly. Silence fell over the room, and, surprisingly, it wasn't all that awkward. It was a very content silence. I began to realise that I might have some napping to catch up on too. I turned on the television as an attempt to wake myself up, but it only ended up making me even more tired. I didn't even want to move to go to my room. I felt my eyes close, and without further protest from me, I drifted off to sleep.

  
    "Sarah." I began to move slightly, peaceful slumber leaving me.

  
    "Sarah," came the voice again. I buried my head deeper into my pillow.

  
     _My pillow has been working out._

  
    I immediately jolted out of my sleeping state before Sam could say my name again. I looked up to him, and he was smiling down at me.

  
    "Sorry, for, you know, falling asleep on you," I apologised, continuing to gaze up at him.

  
    "It's alright."

  
    "How long have I been sleeping?"

  
    "Maybe two hours." My eyes widened at his answer.

  
    " _You let me sleep on you for at least two hours?_ " I questioned in disbelief, sitting up.

  
    "Well, kind of. You fell asleep and I fell asleep a few minutes after, and woke up about an hour later. You were still asleep and had leaned over on me, so, instead of being rude, I let you sleep. And honestly, it's been kind of relaxing," he concluded, looking over at me as though this was the common thing to do.

  
    "You make a comfortable pillow," I commented. I wanted to hit myself in the face. Sam, however, began laughing.

  
    "I'm glad I could be of service." He turned to face the TV, but put his arm around my shoulder. "And I wish I could stay a lot longer than I am going to be." I looked at him questioningly, though he didn't see.

  
    "What do you mean?" He turned back to face me.

  
    "And I'm pretty sure my brother thinks the same," Sam continued. "In fact, I know he does. I've never seen that expression on his face after he kisses a girl. It's like...It's like he realised something." My eyebrow stayed raised as Sam finished speaking. He slowly began to lean closer to me. My eyes widdened as I just sort of sat there.

  
    There was a wolf whistle.

  
    I wanted to whine loudly and pout with my arms folded.

  
    But I didn't. Instead I continued to sit there, as did Sam, his face just inches from mine.

  
    Dean was standing in the entry way, a massive smirk on his face.

  
    "Look, I hate to break up a love fest, really, but Sammy, we have a problem." Sam stood up and followed Dean as he left the room. Annoyed, but curious, I slumped up and dragged my feet out of the room.

  
    Before leaving the room, I straightened up, and shook my head, still completely dumbstruck.

  
    Sam was sitting by himself at the kitchen table, an expression of slight annoyance present on his features as he played with his thumbs. I bit my lip and let out a deep breath before walking to the counter and getting a drink for myself.

  
    Dean came back into the room, Chelsea tailing behind him. She walked out in front of him and sat the phone down on the table, turning it on speaker-phone.

  
    "Okay Kathleen," Chelsea began. "Tell me the story again, louder and slower though." There was a deep intake of breath from the phone.

  
    "Okay, right, so Curtis called me in a massive panic and I asked what was wrong, and he told me that he had to meet me in person, so I go down to his apartment and he's freaking out and nearly in tears. So, I asked him what was wrong again, and he told me that I couldn't tell anybody." She took a long pause before inhaling a deep breath of air and continuing. "But, he told me he got abducted by aliens," she concluded.

  
    "And what do you think of that? Did he have any proof?" Chelsea asked.

  
    "Sort of. There was this massive circular burn on campus." Dean sighed as Sam's eyes darted off the phone and to his brother. Chelsea took the phone off speaker and meandered off into the other room.

  
    "Think we should go interview this Curtis kid?" Dean asked. Sam sighed, his eyebrows raised.

  
    "Alien abduction?"

  
    "I know dude, but, we might as well check it out," Dean concluded. Chelsea came back into the kitchen, now off the phone.

  
    "Curtis is down at the bar, if you want to go talk to him." Dean looked down to his brother and nodded his head, leaving the room. Sam sighed and stood up as well, turning around to catch a quick glance at me before leaving himself. Chelsea noticed the exchange and sat down next to me, sniggering.

  
    "What's your problem?" I questioned defensively, my blushing cheeks giving me away. Her smile grew.

  
    "You kissed him."

  
    "No!" I took a pause. "I _wish_ I did." I concluded. She gave me a sympathetic expression. I simply shrugged. "Dean had an interesting expression when he kissed you," I decided to say instead.

  
    "Dean had an expression when he kissed me? Was it during? Was it after? Was he disgusted? Did he like it? What did--"

  
    "Whimsical," I stated, cutting her off. Her expression went blank as she blinked a few times.

  
    "W-whimsical? Dean Winchester is _not_ 'whimsical'." She raised her eyebrow as she stood up. She began to walk away with her head tilted, and softly muttering "whimsical?" under her breath.

  
    I sat at the table for a few minutes longer before eventually going into the living room. I sighed and curled up on the sofa, realising again how tired I truly was. My eyes began to close as I drifted off into slumber.

  
    "Still doesn't make a lick of sense," came Dean's voice from the doorway. My eyes shot open as I turned around to see Sam and Dean coming back into the house. I couldn't have been asleep longer than half an hour this time. "But hey, at least there's one connection," Dean began again, taking off a jacket, and walking towards the love seat.

  
    "Between what?" Sam questioned.

  
    "The victims." Dean tossed the jacket onto the love seat. He wiped his mouth as I sat up. "The professor and the frat guy-- They're both dicks." He sat down in one of the barely-used seats diagonal to me. Sam had picked up a bag from the doorway and sat it down on the sofa next to me.

  
    "That's a connection?"

  
    "You got anything better to go on? I'd love to hear it."

  
    "Where's my laptop?" Sam asked immediately after surveying the room.

  
    "I don't know," Dean responded, a flat tone to his voice as he looked away from both Sam and I. "Well think about." Dean's voice had more expression as he began once more. Sam began to look around the living room. "A philandering professor gets a dead girl, a pledge master gets hazed--"

  
    "I left it in here."

  
    "You obviously didn't." Dean's voice began to get annoyed.

  
    "You or Chelsea didn't take my laptop, did you?" Sam questioned desperately. I shook my head. He ducked out of the room. Dean continued to talk, only louder, as Sam searched.

  
    "I mean, these punishments, they're almost poetic." Sam stormed back into the living room. "Actually, it'd be more like a limerick, but still--"

  
    "Okay. Hilarious, ha-ha, where'd you hide it?"

  
    "What, your computer?"

  
    "Yeah, where'd you hide it?"

  
    "Why would I take your computer?"

  
    "Because no one else would have, Dean." Dean gestured towards me, quite blantently as well. I shot him a look. "She has her own, and so does Chelsea."

   
    "Looks like you lost it, Poindexter." Dean began to smile. Sam's rage began to show in his face. It was silent for a few beats before he spoke.

  
    "Dude, you know something? I put up with a lot from you." My eyes began to grow in size as I felt the tension grow in the room. I then heard footsteps as Chelsea walked into the room. I glanced over and began to rapidly shake my head.

  
    "What are you talking about? I'm a joy to be around." Chelsea's eyes grew too as she could feel the tension.

  
     "Yeah?" Sam's voice began to raise. "Your dirty socks in the bathroom sink, your food in the fridge--"

  
    "What's wrong with my food?" Dean asked defensively.

  
    "It's not food anymore, Dean! It's Dwarnism."

  
    "I like it," Dean mumbled upset as Sam continued to shout. He looked down at his hands.

  
    "All I ask from you, the one thing, is that you don't mess with my stuff!"

  
    "You done?" Dean asked after a short pause. Sam's lips tightened for a second before he started again.

  
    "One last thing!- We are in a house, that isn't ours, that is owned by two women. Have some respect, man," Sam concluded in a shout. The room was silent for a second as Dean looked down once again. I noticed a slight colour to his cheeks. "You know--" Dean looked back up, a blank expression on his face. "How would you feel if I screwed with the Impala?"

  
    "Oh Jesus," I heard Chelsea mumble.

  
    "It'd be the last thing you ever did." Sam looked as though he wanted to say something else, though he closed his mouth and shook his head, storming off past me and Chelsea. Dean sighed and stood up, noticing Chelsea.

  
    "Oh," he said softly. "Hi."

  
    "Well, hello," she said, trying to sound chipper. He gently took one of her hands in his before kissing her cheek and walking off. Chelsea's eyes grew even more before she followed in behind him. I rubbed my eyes and sighed, exhausted and exasperated from the two fighting brothers. I looked at the time on my phone, to see it was almost 9:30 p.m. I stretched my arms and reached for the remote, turning on the television, not really planning to watch it, but just having it on as background noise. I heard the sound of feet moving softly and I glanced up to see Sam timidly shuffling back in the room.

  
    "Did my brother leave?" I nodded and moved over, patting the seat next to me. He made his way over, plopping down onto the sofa and running a hand through his hair. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him occasionally look over to me, before quickly looking away once again. I began to wonder, because his quick glances were slowly becoming more and more obvious, if he was doing this to get my attention. I smiled and looked over to him, opening my mouth to speak, but was interupted by news music coming from the television.

  
    "Breaking news tonight as we discover a local scientist that worked at our town's university has been found murdered. Police have released a statement saying the mortician has no idea what has killed this man. We will keep you posted as this story possibly develops more."

  
    Sam and I had a fleeting moment of staring at each other with puppy-like expressions, before both of our faces mimicked each other, displaying annoyed disbelief, as I flung my head back and sighed. Sam called for his brother who swaggered back into the room, an eyebrow raised.

  
    "What do you want?" Sam let out a deep sigh before picking up the remote and rewinding the television, showing him the newscast. Dean's expression mellowed by the second into the same expression Sam and I wore. "I'll get the stuff," he mumbled as he picked up his jacket from the seat he tossed it onto earlier. I glanced over to Sam as he stood up. I watched as he straightened his clothes and put on a jacket he had tossed off earlier. I stood up in front of up.

  
    "So why are you two going down there?" I asked, trying to seem as though I was interested, and didn't already know the reason why.

  
    "To try and find a connection between the two previous cases, and it's very rare a mortician doesn't know what killed his 'patient'." Sam ruffled his hair slightly and looked down towards me, a soft smile on his lips. "We shouldn't be out for too long." He glanced down at his watch and adjusted it, sighing softly.

  
    "Well, the quicker we get out and go down to the morgue, the quicker we can get back to trying to figure out whatever the hell this thing is." Dean came practically barrelling back into the room, not even glancing at Sam and I once. "This shit never ends," he complained to himself as he opened the door. Sam rolled his eyes and patted my shoulder before turning away and leaving the apartment. I heard Dean sigh and look up at me.

  
    "What?" I questioned.

  
    "I'm sorry about yelling earlier." I shrugged. "No, I am sorry. And I'm sorry if I'm being messy." He closed his eyes and inhaled deep. "And you can throw away the rest of my food in the fridge, if you want." He opened his eyes as he finished his sentence, dramatically pained. I smiled softly, and he did the same looking at my face. "We will back soon, Princess." And with that, he shut the door.

  
    I sighed and looked at the time; barely any had passed. I decided, to avoid any possible conflict when they returned, to go to bed. When I got into my room, Chelsea was already there, curled up and sound asleep. I smiled fondly, and got ready to do the same.

  
    There was a loud thud. I immediately jolted awake and glanced towards the clock.

  
     _8:03 a.m._

  
    "It's too early for this crap," Chelsea murmured next to me, without opening her eyes. She rolled over onto her belly and pulled the covers over her head. "Go deal with it." I clicked my tongue and rolled my eyes, getting out of bed. I heard a knock on my bedroom door.

  
    "Yes?" I questioned, trying to sound chipper, but I still came across as groggy.

  
    "Where's Sam," came Dean's voice. It wasn't a question, it was a demand. I opened up the door and gazed up at him, trying to feign innocence as I batted my eyelashes. Dean was absolutely livid.

  
    "He's in bed." Dean immediately turned heal-toe to Chelsea's room. I quietly followed.

  
    "You think this is funny?" Sam was relaxing in a chair in the room, reading a book. He turned around to look at his brother with a raised eyebrow.

  
    "It depends. What?" Dean quickly mocked his question in a mumble.

  
    "The car!"

  
    "What about the car?" Sam asked calmly.

  
    "You can't let the air out of the tyres, ya idiot. You're gonna bend the rims!" Dean began to gesticulate. Sam closed his book and turned more in the seat to face Dean.

  
    "Whoa, wait a minute. I didn't go near your car."

  
    "Oh, yeah? Huh. Then how'd I find this?" Through the crack in the door, I could see Dean show Sam a money clip. It was Sam's money clip. Sam quickly felt his pockets and stood up, his shoulders tensing.

  
    "Hey, give me back my money," he said calmly, outstretching his hand, though his bitchface was already on.

  
    "Oh, no, no. Consider it reparations. For, uh, emotional trauma." Dean walked away to the bed and Sam followed. I opened the door up a bit more.

  
    "Yeah, very funny. Now, give it back." Sam made an attempt to grab his money, but Dean jerked it away.

  
    "No."

  
    "Dean, I have had it up to here with you."

  
     "Yeah? Right back at you!" Sam made another attempt to get his money, which Dean jerked away from him again. Sam made one more try before tackling Dean to the bed.

  
    "Come on!" Dean shouted. They began to wrestle for the money. "Get off of me!"

  
    "Give it back!" Sam yelled. I ran into the room and made a grab for the money clip. Sam and Dean looked up at me immediately, the anger and child-like annoyance painted on their features. Without speaking, I put the money clip in my pocket. Sam opened his mouth to speak. I rose my finger and closed my eyes.

  
    "I'll give it back when you two stop acting like children." And with that, I swiftly turned around and left the room.


	8. Chapter 8

     It was now the afternoon and I had been playing video games when there was a knock on the door. Pausing the game with suspicion, I slowly walked towards the door. There came three raps once again. I quickly reached forward and opened the door and my heart skipped into my throat.

  
    "Bobby," I mumbled. Bobby Singer's eyebrows raised slightly as he extended his hand.

  
    "I s'pose introductions are useless at this point. I'm Bobby." I took his hand in mine and we shook. "I'm assumin' Sam and Dean told you to expect me."

  
    "Oh, yes, of course." When Bobby glanced behind me I rolled my eyes. Sam and Dean better be thankful I knew who this was, as they hadn't said a single thing to me. I gestured for Bobby to come in the door.

  
    "What's your name?" He questioned.

  
    "I'm Sarah," I told him, extending my hand again. He smiled slightly and took it, shaking my hand for a second time.

  
    "Where are the--" but the end of his sentence was drowned out by loud music coming from Chelsea's room. Bobby sighed and closed his eyes as he exhaled.

  
    "I'll show you." Once we got to Chelsea's door, we could hear Sam and Dean yelling at each other. _Chelsea should be thankful she is at work_ , I thought. Bobby knocked on the door. A few seconds later, Sam came over and opened it up.

  
    "Hey, Bobby," he said fondly.

  
    "Hey, boys." The corner of Bobby's mouth twitched into a half-smile.

  
    "Hey, Bobby," Dean said as he stood up from the bed. I followed into the room behind Bobby. Sam gave me an apologetic half-smile. I narrowed my eyes.

  
    There was food on the bed that Cheslea had brought in for Dean earlier, and there were papers and books strewn about Sam's perch.

  
    "It's good to see you again so soon," Bobby told the pair of them.

  
    "Yeah, uh, thanks for coming."

  
    "Thank God you're here," Dean said, coming to give Bobby a handshake.

  
    "So, um..." Bobby began. "What didn't you want to talk to me on the phone about?"

  
    "It's this job we're working. We-- We weren't sure you'd believe us." Bobby scoffed at Sam's statement.

  
     "Well, I can believe a lot."

  
    "Yeah, no, no, it's just, we've never seen anything like it --"

  
    "--Not even close," Dean interrupted.

  
    "And we thought we could use some fresh eyes." Sam continued again immediately, grimacing at his older brother.

  
    "Well, why don't you begin at the beginning?"

  
    "Yeah, um, all right." Sam gestured for Bobby to sit down. Bobby sat looked down at the chair and picked up an empty take-out container. He slowly looked over to me, and I rolled my eyes and took it, marching out the room. Sam had already begun speaking.

  
    "So, it all started when we caught wind of an obit. See, a professor took a nosedive from a fourth story window, only there's a campus legend that the building's haunted. So we pretexted as reporters from the local paper--" I could hear Sam's voice fade off into story as I exited Chelsea's room and threw the container away. I walked back into the room to see Dean glaring at his younger sibling.

  
    "--And so I was sitting in the booth with Sarah, and Dean came over and slammed these purple shots of liquid on the table called 'Purple Nurples', and began to talk about how he talked to so many 'fiesty little wildcats'--" Dean had opened his mouth in protest and Bobby just raised a finger, silencing him. Sam cleared his throat and continued. "And then he started talking about Chelsea and used the line, if I recall, 'she's got a sister'--" Dean looked positively outraged now.

  
    "Whoa, whoa, whoa, _whoa_." There was a lot more anger in Dean's voice than how I remembered. "Hold on a minute."

  
    "What?" Sam innocently asked.

  
    "Come on, dude, that's not how it happened." Dean was absolutely livid.

  
    "No? So you never drank a Purple Nurple?"

  
    "Yeah, maybe that, but I don't say things like 'feisty little wildcats'. And secondly, don't make it out to seem like I used Chelsea with drunken flirtation!" Bobby and I looked at the pair of them, blinking our eyes twice and then raising our eyebrows.

  
    "Who's Chelsea?" Bobby asked.

  
    "Her best friend," Dean said, nodding up towards me. "She lives here, she just went out to work." Dean readjusted himself to look at Bobby. "Back at the bar, we discussed anthropology and folklore, along with some of the local ghost stories." He began to recount the story before getting into his lying side of the story. "After Chelsea had to go back to work, I noticed my brother sitting at a table with Sarah. Chelsea had suggested these shots called 'Purple Nurples', and so, being the polite brother I am, I decided to take the shots over to the both of them.

  
    "I got to the table and I saw them both flipping through books being the complete nerds they are--" I glanced over to Sam with my mouth hanging slightly agape. Now Sam was starting to look angry. _Oh boy_ , I thought. "I slid the shots to both of them," Dean continued. "Sam looked up at me with that obnoxious eyebrow raise. And the conversation has went something like this:  
    'Dean, WHAT do you think you are doing?' And he pulled this really obnoxious bitchface, pursing his lips and everything.  
    'Sam, please. If you don't mind, I'm only trying to lighten the mood.'  
    'Dean, this is a very serious investigation. We don't have anytime for your blah-blah-blah-blah'." Dean was making an "obnoxious" face as he "mimicked" Sam. It was hard to not laugh, but I held myself. Bobby was obviously in the same compromising position, though Sam looked thoroughly annoyed. Dean continued with his impersionation, simply repeating the word "blah" about sixteen more times. On the seventeenth blah, Sam finally interrupted.

  
    "Right, and that's how it happened," Sam agreed sarcastically. Dean simply shrugged. "I don't sound like that, Dean!"

  
    "That's what you sound like to me."

  
    "And leave Sarah out of this, she didn't do anything."

  
    "I--"

  
    "Okay," Bobby said, hampering Sam and Dean's arguing. "What's going on with you two?"

  
    "Nothing," Sam slightly rolled his eyes. "It's nothing."

  
    "Come on. You're bickerin' like an old married couple."

  
    "No, see married couples can get divorced. Me and him, we're like, uh, Siamese twins." Dean stood up and started his walk towards the kitchen.

  
    "It's _conjoined_ twins!" Sam shouted as though he had said this a thousand times before.

  
    "See what I mean?" Dean asked loudly without missing a beat.

  
    Sam, myself and Bobby all got up and followed Dean.

  
    "Look, it," Sam sighed. "We've just been on the road for too long. Tight quarters, all that. Don't worry about it." Bobby looked unconvinced but agreed with an "okay" anyway. "So anyway," Sam continued. "We figured it might be a haunting, so we went to check out the scene of the crime." As Sam began to recount the story, we sat down next to Dean in the kitchen. He only interjected a disagreement once at the beginning, but he mostly sat in silence as Sam told the tale.

  
    "But did you dig up anything about the building? Or on the suicidal co-ed?"

  
    "No, history's clean," Sam told him.

  
    "Then it's not a haunting."

  
    "Maybe not. Tell you the truth, we're not really sure," Dean admitted.

  
    "What do you mean, you're not sure?"

  
    "Well ... it's weird," Sam told him.

  
    "What's weird?"

  
    "This next part, we uh, we didn't see it happen ourselves exactly, but it's pretty friggin weird. Even for us." Dean sighed as he told Bobby the encounter Curtis had outside Crawford Hall. I heard the front door open and the sound of keys being tossed down. Chelsea opened the kitchen door just as Dean finished telling Bobby about Curtis.

  
    "Aliens?" Bobby questioned incrediously.

  
    "Yeah."

  
 _"Aliens?"_  
    "Yeah," Dean told him again.

  
    "Aliens?" Chelsea questioned towards me softly. I nodded. The sound of her voice caused Dean to look in our direction. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

  
    "Bobby, this is Chelsea." Bobby began to walk towards her, his hand outstretched.

  
    "Nice to meet you, Bobby," she said, taking his hand.

  
    "Pleasure is all mine." He turned around towards Dean again and murmured "Aliens?" one more time. "Look, even if they are real, they're sure as hell not coming to earth and swiping people."

  
    "Hey, believe me. We know," Dean told him.

  
    "My whole life i've never found evidence of an honest-to-God abduction. It's all just cranks and pranks."

  
    "Yeah, that's what we thought. But...we figured we'd at least talk to the guy." Sam told him, going into the conversation they had with Curtis. Bobby's face slowly sunk further into disbelief.

  
    "You guys are exaggerating again, huh?"

  
    "No," all four of us chorused at once. Sam and Dean both looked tired and unamused while Chelsea and I had turned beet red trying to keep a poker face.

  
    "Then this frat boy's just nuts," Bobby told them, as though this were obvious.

  
    "We're not so sure," Dean told him again. He recounted how on their way back, they saw a gigantic, circular burn right outside Crawford Hall, explaining that's also where the professor took a nosedive. And how they encountered a boy who explained how Curtis was infamous for hazing everyone. He then began to lie again. "--And then Sam said 'You're too precious for this world'."

  
    "I never said that!"

  
    "You're always saying pansy stuff like that." Bobby looked at both the boys, obviously in deep thought. Dean began telling the story again. He went on about how there has to be a connection, because thus far, each person got what was coming for them. As Dean was telling the story, he and Sam both sat down. Chelsea went into the fridge to get beers for both of them. Bobby continued pacing.

  
    "Did you take his computer?" Bobby asked when the flashback was over.

  
    "Serves him right, but no." Dean took a drink. Bobby looked back at Chelsea and myself.

  
    "We didn't take it either," Chelsea told him. "We would have no use for it."

  
    "Well I didn't lose it," Sam said, looking right as Dean. "Because I don't lose things."

  
    "Oh that's right, 'cause he's Mr. Perfect."

  
    "Okay, okay. Why don't you just tell me what happened next?" Bobby calmly requested, as to avoid another fight.

  
    "There was one more victim."

  
    "Right. Now, we didn't see this one ourselves, either. We kinda put it together from the evidence. But this guy, he was a research scientist... Animal testing."

  
    "Yeah, you know, a dick. Which fits the pattern." Sam nodded at Dean's comment and started up another story.

  
    "Cops didn't release a cause of death, because they had no idea what the cause was."

  
    "So, we checked it out ourselves." Sam continued onwards with how they got into the morgue, and also how his office was in Crawford Hall, and his body was discovered just outside of it. He talked about the decision to call Bobby after finding a belly scale from an alligator. "We decided to search the sewer anyway, so we split up, each taking one end of campus."

  
    "D'you find anything?" Bobby questioned.

  
    "Yeah, I found something. Just not in the sewer." Dean added. He told Bobby about finding Sam's money clip next to the deflated wheels of the Impala. He recounted the story of what happened when he confronted Sam.

  
    "Okay, I've heard enough."

  
    "You showed up a couple hours after that."

  
    "I'm surprised at you two. I really am. Sam, first off, Dean did not steal your computer.

  
    "But I--" Sam began. Bobby silenced him, holding up his hand.

  
    "Shh, shh, shh, _shh!_ And, Dean, Sam did not touch your car."

  
    "Yeah!" Sam chuckled out.

  
    "And if you two bothered to pull your heads outta your _asses,_ it all would have been pretty clear."

  
    "What?" Dean asked.

  
    "What you're dealing with!" Sam and Dean both looked around as though the answer would fall from the sky. But when it, of course, eventually didn't, Dean looked back at Bobby and Sam looked down.

  
    "Uh..." Sam began.

  
    "I got nothing."

  
    "Yeah, me neither."

  
    "You got a trickster on your hands." Dean immediately snapped his fingers.

  
    "That's what I thought!"

  
    "What?! No you didn't!"

  
    "I got to tell you," Bobby swiftly continued. "You guys were the biggest clue."

  
    "What do you mean?" Sam asked.

  
    "These things create chaos and mischief as easy as breathing, and it's got you so turned around and at each other's throats, you can't even think straight." Sam and Dean finally understood.

  
    "The laptop," I told Sam.

  
    "The tyres," Chelsea told Dean. Bobby nodded.

  
    "It knows you're onto him, and it's been playing you like fiddles."

  
    "So, what is it, what, what, spirit, demon, what?" Dean asked.

  
    "Well, more like demigods, really. There's Loki in Scandinavia. There's Anansi in West Africa. Dozens of them. They're immortal, and they can create things out of thin air. Things as real as you and me. Make them vanish just as quick."

  
    "You mean like an angry spirit or an alien or an alligator?"

  
    "The victims fit the M.O., too. Tricksters target the high and the mighty, knock them down a peg, usually with a sense of humour-- deadly pranks, things like that."

  
    "Bobby, what do these things look like?"

  
    "Lots of things, but human, mostly." Dean sighed, understanding once more. He looked to Sam.

  
    "And what human do we know who's been at ground zero this whole time?" Sam frowned and shook his head. After a second or two, he got it.

  
    "The janitor," he said. They both turned to look at Bobby. Bobby sighed.

  
    "Well, if that's who you two thinks been there the entire time, I suggest setting up surveillance or at least a ploy. Play _him_ like a fiddle."

  
    Sam and Dean looked at each other before turning their gazes towards myself and Chelsea.

  
    "What?" Chelsea asked, confused.

  
    "I have an idea," I told Dean.

  
    "One point to the Princess," Dean smirked. Chelsea rolled her eyes, knowing "my idea" was simply more plot from the programme. I smiled awkwardly, attempting to accept the undeserved praise, but failed miserably. I cleared my throat after a couple more seconds, forgetting everyone was looking at me.

  
    "Stage a fight between you two," I spat out quickly, my gaze darting away from everyone.

  
    "What do you mean?" Sam inquired.

  
    "Like, pretend to argue. The Trickster already knows you two are on his trail, so go there, stage a surveillance, stage an arguement, and then attack a little later." My sentence faded off as I shrunk a little.

  
    "There's no need to be modest, that's a great idea," Bobby praised. _Oh great, I'm coming off as modest_. I heard Chelsea snicker.

  
    "Thanks," I mumbled quietly, looking over to Bobby. He looked genuinely impressed. Shit. I then glanced over to Sam, who was beginning to smile. I had decided to not look over at Dean, and stare at the wall directly above Sam's head instead.

  
    "Well, let's go do this thing," Dean stated. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him look over to his brother. Sam nodded and stood up, refocusing my gaze. I flushed slightly and looked over to Chelsea who was smirking right at me. Bobby, Sam and Dean all left the room, leaving me and Chelsea standing there.

  
    "You're so full of shit."

  
    "Shut it."   
  



	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope those of you who read enjoyed my fic! Let me know if you'd like to have more.

     After about an hour of complete silence, while Chelsea sat on her laptop and Bobby sat on the sofa, occasionally glancing at the door for one of his boys to walk in, Sam finally did. Bobby immediately hopped up, causing Chelsea to glance up and close her laptop partially.

  
    "So?" Bobby asked.

  
    "Definitely our guy," Sam obviously confirmed. I propped myself up on the loveseat just in time to see Sam look over towards me. "Sarah had a good idea." I groaned softly. Sam turned back to Bobby. "Dean's still there, just texted me. He said he's going inside after the Trickster in about ten." Sam then spoke to me and Chelsea. "We need your help, if you two are up for it," he added. I stood up as Chelsea completely shut her laptop.

  
    "Our help?" She questioned. Sam nodded. "Why?"

  
    "Extra pair of hands," he simply stated. I looked over to Chelsea and shrugged, then nodded. Sam then nodded. "Bobby, if you want to walk Chelsea through our plan, I'll talk to Sarah about it. We can go in as pairs." I hoped my school-like eagerness to be paired up with Sam, like this were some sort of educational assignment, hadn't shown through. Unfortunately, it did, and that caused Chelsea to chuckle as she walked into the other room with Bobby.

  
    "So, Sam," I began, sitting back down. Sam came over to join me. "What do I have to do?" He shifted slightly and pulled out a wooden stake from his jacket.

  
    "All we have to do, is stab it in the heart with this." He handed it to me. I sighed slightly, thinking about Gabriel. I knew it wouldn't kill him, but would he be expecting this? Would he be expecting myself and Chelsea to show up to "gank him" just like the boys and Bobby? I turned the stake thrice in my hands. He's an archangel, surely he knows this is going to happen.

  
    "One stab? Through the heart?" I asked, looking up to Sam. He nodded.

  
    "And just follow me in there. Chelsea will follow Bobby's lead." We glanced up to the sound of footsteps approaching the pair of us.

  
    "Well kids, let's get to it." Sam stood up and I mindlessly followed. We had a good view of Crawford Hall from the front of our apartment complex, so we could all see Dean's figure standing off in the distance. Sam sent him a quick text, confirming that it was alright to go in. We saw Dean read the text, pocket his phone, and go inside the building. After a minute, we followed.

  
    When we entered the building, we could hear Barry White's Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe playing distantly in the theatre of the school. Sam raised an eyebrow and began to walk towards the noise, and the rest of us followed in suit. When we reached the theatre doors, Sam motioned for Bobby to go to the next set of doors, that led to the other isle. Chelsea followed him. I looked up to Sam as he listened to the faint conversation going on in the next room. Sam took a deep breath, took out his stake and after a quick count to ten, he flung open the doors. I quickly pulled my stake out behind him. Bobby and Sam began to walk towards Gabriel as he started speaking.

  
    "That fight you guys had outside-- That was a trick?" Gabriel faced Dean again, as Dean gave a sarcastically modest smile. "Hmm, not bad," Gabriel told him, nodding in mock approval. Dean then pulled the stake out of his jacket. "You want to see a real trick?" And as soon as he finished his question, out of thin air appeared a man with a chainsaw behind Sam and in front of me.

  
    "Sam!" I screamed, just as the chainsaw began revving. Sam whipped his head around and immediately fell to the ground. I noticed Dean go for Gabriel with the stake raised, and saw the brunette woman from the stage speed towards him, holding his wrist above his head. Sam stood back up and was then flung into a chalkboard, while Dean was flung onto the stage. Gabriel began to laugh. I took a deep breath and went for the man with the chainsaw. Bobby had the same idea as I had, as we both charged him. He cut Bobby's stake in half as Bobby defended himself with it. I went in and stabbed the figment in the side. It groaned, didn't disappear and rounded on me instead. Sam ran at it and jumped on the figment, tackling it to the ground. Dean was currently then getting beat up on stage, and after they tossed him off, Gabriel praised the girls.

  
    "Nice toss, ladies!" Dean hit the front row seats and Chelsea ran to him, helping him back up. I looked over to Gabriel, who was paying absolutely zero attention to me. The five of us noticed Bobby's broken stake on the ground. Gabriel began to stand up. "Dean. Dean, Dean, Dean. I did not want to have to do this." Sam bent down quickly and picked it up, tossing it to Dean. Dean caught it and immediately stabbed Gabriel in the chest. I cringed slightly, and noticed Chelsea did too.

  
    "Me neither," Dean said. Gabriel groaned as the chainsaw began revving up. Sam and I looked up to see the chainsaw man raising the chainsaw above us, before fading away. We looked around and noticed the girls on the stage fade as well with a moan. Dean turned the stake in Gabriel chest and Gabriel grunted.

  
    "Ew, _squish_ ," Chelsea mumbled softly, mimicked the sounds the stake made as it turned. Dean ripped the stake from Gabriel and Gabriel fell back into his seat, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. Sam stood up and helped me to my feet, dusting my arms off slightly. He and Bobby walked over to his brother and stared at the Archangel with him.

  
    "You guys ok?" Dean questioned, wiping his own blood off his face.

  
    "Yeah, I guess," Sam told him.

  
    "All I gotta say-- He had style," Dean said with a smile. He tossed the stake once and groaned as he attempted to move away. Chelsea steadied him, having not taken any damage. Bobby patted Sam's shoulder and they began to move out as well. I followed slowly behind, staring at Gabriel. I waited for a sign, a wink, a snarky comment, but I got nothing. I began to walk towards him when I heard Sam call my name.

  
    "Sarah?" He questioned. My head whipped around to him.

  
    "Yes?"

  
    "You coming?" He asked, chuckling slightly. I faintly smiled and walked towards him instead. Once he turned his head around, I stared at Gabriel again, hoping and waiting for-- for _anything._

  
    We all ran out the front door of the building, Dean's hand on the middle of Chelsea's back, shuffling her out.

  
    "Bobby, thanks a lot. We really couldn't've--" Sam began, but Bobby cut him off.

  
    "Hey, save it! Let's just get the hell out of dodge before someone finds that body." We quickly got into the car, Bobby, myself and Chelsea in the back seat. I was wedged between both of them. Sam paused before getting in the car.

  
    "Look, Dean, um... I just want to say that I'm, uh... Um..." Sam awkwardly began.

  
    "Hey, me too," Dean told him. I looked over to Bobby who rolled his eyes and poked his body out the car.

  
    "You guys are breaking my heart. Could we please just leave?" He sunk back into the car and slammed the door, rolling his eyes again and sighing when Sam and Dean finally got in the car. Dean started the car and sped off. I suddenly felt a pat on my knee. I looked over to Bobby.

  
    "Yeah?" I asked.

  
    "Look, considering we just killed a guy, you two are welcome to stay at my place. At least until this would be old news." I looked over to Chelsea, wanting to see what she thought, as I saw Bobby glance up to her a couple times in his sentence. She smiled slightly and and tilted her head, agreeing. I smiled and faced Bobby again and nodded. He smiled and nodded as well, settling into the seat.  
  



End file.
